Friday, July 18, 2014

You Should be So Over this By Now.

So many times I am asked the question, "When will I get over this?"  With grief, the sadness of losing someone does not completely go away, what we learn however, is to adapt to our new lives.  Often I will hear a comment that is worrisome from family or close friends of the griever, they will say something like it has been 6 months already, or it is going on 2 years, they should be totally over this by now. 

These comments send a mixed message to the griever, they are left feeling as if something is wrong with them, they can't be normal.  How can they be, when everyone that knows them well keeps telling them they should have seriously moved on already.  To add to this madness, the griever themselves is already in a whirlwind of confusion, not knowing which way to turn, or how to get a grip on the overwhelming emotions that refuse to subside. 

Instead of reducing someones grief to time frames and limits, allow the person who is experiencing the multitude of emotion that rage unbidden, to express themselves, share those feelings, and most importantly to talk about their loved one.  One of the greatest fears for those of us who are grieving is that others will forget about the one who died; so hearing his or her name is like a symphony to our ears.  Yes it may bring a tear to our eyes, but they are mixed tears, those of missing our loved one and joy in knowing that someone else remembers them. 

The main thing to remember is that no two people grieve alike, like snowflakes, we are each very unique.  When my daughter, Rachel died my husband and I were like polar opposites, he craved noise and busyness, I longed for the silence.  My two other children reacted in their very own unique ways, yet they were both morning the loss of a sibling.  But the thing most of us forget is that, yes, the loss may be the same, but the relationship with the deceased and vice versa, was totally unique to them.  In the loss of a child, a mother feels empty-armed, as if the baby she carried was whisked away.  For the father, there is a need to protect, to fix, to make things right again, and that moves them in different directions.  Only when their wife seems to be getting better, do they begin to let the pain in.  For those on the outside looking in, it appears as if the father isn't letting go, refusing to move on, and that opens up doors of vulnerability that men are unfamiliar with. 

In times of tragedy and death, there will be those who openly express their emotions and feelings, and others who remain stoic, almost uncaring.  The world perceives our attachment to our loved one by the way we react.  This is so unfair to so many people,  not everyone is comfortable openly expressing their feelings and emotions, while others are pouring it all out.  Our childhood, how we have watched others deal with loss, also effects are behavior, and is stored away and drawn upon when we are faced with life's crises.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve, there is no starting or stopping points.  The key is to express our feelings, to share what we are experiencing, and above all, to speak about our loved ones.  We must allow the memories of those we love to carry us into the future; a future where we will be able to laugh again, to find the beauty in nature, and the joy in simple things.  And to remember that our loved ones are always with us, watching over us, loving us as they always did.  

So allow those tears to flow or not, allow yourself the time you need, take care of yourself by eating properly and getting rest, know that you are not going crazy; you, your mind, heart and body are trying to figure this all out.  Be patient with yourself and others, and give yourself the space you need, and do, do the the things that bring you comfort, that help you cope.  

And always remember that even though our loved one is no longer with us in this physical world, they remain with us always and that no matter what, their love never dies.

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

I Feel So Disconnected...

Feeling disconnected.  It has been quite some time since my last posting and something nudge me to come this way today.  I was preparing for this evenings support group meeting, looking for fresh material and an opening prayer or poem to welcome those who are returning or joining us for the first time, when a question caught my eye.  Do you have feelings of being disconnected?  If yes, from whom or what?  (Taken from A Gathering of Angels by Victoria Leland, RN in collaboration with five grieving mothers).  Followed by: What things can you do to help yourself (1) stay connected to your baby*, (2) feel okay about yourself during the time of disconnect with others, and (3) reconnect with others when you are ready?  *For me I simply substituted the word baby with daughter/child, you can simply change it to your loved one to represent whomever has died in your life.  

Do you feel disconnected?  For so many of us who have suffered through the death of a loved one, regardless of our relationship with them, we do so feel totally separated from the world around us.  For me the loss of a child, left me avoiding families that were still intact.  After my dad died, I felt little in common with those who's father was still alive and after the death of my last surviving grandparent I felt like I could never be loved in the way that only they could love me.  You get my drift.  These are very real and very normal feelings to experience after the death of a loved one.  We no longer feel whole, and seeing others who have what we so desperately long to have again leaves us feeling alone and isolated, totally disconnected from the world.  Add to that the feelings of no longer being able to see, touch or hear our loved one in the physical realm, seems to further widen this disconnection. The whoms or whats are numerous and vary with the relationship we had with our loved ones, what they brought into our lives, and who we were when we were with them. 

So how do we bridge this disconnect?  Amazingly after almost 8 years after my daughter Rachel's death, I feel more connected to her now than I ever did before.  She has become an integral part of my very being, and is never very far from my thoughts and daily routine.  Her memory lives on in so many ways in my life, and her love of life is reflected so beautifully in the faces and actions of my grandchildren.  And just when I feel lonely or saddened by a sudden memory or other trigger, I am gently reminded that she is near.  For instance just yesterday morning as I reached for the handle of my car door I spied a penny lying on the ground, as I bent down to pick it up I silently whispered Good Morning Rachel.  As I started the engine, I could not help but smile as a feeling of comfort and warmth flooded over me. 

But this was not always the case for me.  In the first few months and years, I felt totally alone, totally out of sync with the world and those around me.  In time I learned to accept that this was normal and okay.  By allowing myself to become disconnected from the day to day world around me, I gave myself the space I needed to heal, to accept and to recognize the beauty that had come into my life with the birth of my daughter.  During this time, I allowed my self to question, to cry, to be angry, and to even allow myself bouts of self-pity.  It was during this time of deep awareness that I came to fully understand who I was, what mattered most to me, and what choices only I could make.  It was not always easy, I sometimes did not like the person staring back at me in the mirror, and there were times that retreating from the world seemed like the best option  But I can honestly say, if I had not allowed my self that space to unplug myself from life, I would probably still be spinning out of control even now.  

The beauty of accepting the 'disconnect' was that it gave me time to understand my grief, to get to know the person I was becoming, and to get acclimated to the new 'normal' in my life.  To a life without my eldest daughter Rachel physically in it and to the possibilities that only Rachel's death could bring into my life.  So when I was 'ready to reconnect' with the world, it was on my terms, with a new perspective on life, a renewed sense of purpose and a resolve to help others who were grieving too. 

For those of you who are trying to be there for someone who is grieving the death of a loved one,  the greatest gift you can give them is space.  Be understanding and compassionate when they tell you that can't go to a party, or be with others.  They may not be able to face the reminders of what is so sharply missing from their lives.  In time they will come around, just let them know you are there for them and are willing to just sit, listen or simply hold their hand.  

Grief is not easy, it takes time and is definitely hard work, and each and everyone of us grieves very differently.  So embrace the disconnection, learn to forge new connections with your deceased loved ones, and reconnect on your terms and in your way.  But most importantly, just know that you are not alone, ever, your loved one is always with you, for love is not governed by death and it finds it's way even through the murkiest darkness. 

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Dancing in the Sky...

Often artists and writers will capture our feelings in their lyrics and words, 
the following song by Dani & Lizzy do just that and more...'Dancing in the Sky'...

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Support Group Article

Recently the support group I facilitate was highlighted in our local diocesan newspaper 'The Anchor.' 

Making great strides to help others as they struggle to make sense of all the confusion that often comes with the death of a loved one.  Through our own losses, we can often find the strength to reach out to others with compassion and empathy, not because we have become experts, but because we have come to understand our loss and that this is not a journey to be taken alone.

The following is the link to the article:
Photo by Rose Mary Saraiva

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Taking that First Step!

Why is grief so hard to talk about?  Why do people try to act like it doesn't exist?  Or worse yet, if it is not acknowledged, it will eventually go away!  If only that last statement were true!

The only way to handle grief is to talk about it, to express those feelings, to give some sort of direction to the confusion that you feel, and to just know you are not alone.  Grief exists, it does not simply go away or vanish into thin air if people act like it never happened.  For me, it has been almost seven years now since Rachel passed away, and I still talk about missing her, and wishing she were here right now.  My pain has eased, and the grief no longer is debilitating, but there is still a longing.  Gratefully this longing has been filled by a deep knowledge that my daughter walks beside me each and every day, a constant presence in my life. 

What helped me then, and continues to help, was finding a person or persons who were willing to just listen, even when my words were mere ramblings.  People who let me share my story and Rachel's story, people who did not judge or look down at me because of my words and actions.  Individuals who looked beyond the outer trappings of my grief, recognizing the hurting person within my outward shell. 

It is not always easy to find such support, but one must keep searching, eventually you will find a person or persons who willingly walk beside you.  These individuals can range from family members, close friends or even strangers.  They can come in the form of counseling or support groups. They can be found in your work, school or faith community.  Hospitals, doctors and other health care facilities offer help or can direct you to support systems.  The key is to take that first step, and utter those words that for me were one of the hardest to say, "I need help!"  "I can't do this alone." 

Even after admitting I needed help, it took me several times before fear, anger and pushing my pride aside, allowed me to let the help I so desperately needed to begin to bear fruit.  It took three sessions with my counselor to finally realize she only wanted to help.  It took three attempts before I finally walked into my first support group.  And it took two or three sessions before I felt comfortable enough to share with the group. 

Anything that alters our lives in any way, requires us to re-adjust routines, or creates a change in us, takes time.   Regardless of the cause of the changes, we have to face our hopes and dreams, our fears and uncertainties, and sometimes learn to walk all over again.  Taking baby steps, until we are able to walk boldly and even begin to run again. 

Remember to give yourself time and to give that helping hand a chance to make a difference in your life.  Don't be afraid to meet it half way, or if that is hard, to allow it all the way into your life. 

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Rachel's Here!

It's been a while since I have posted, life just gets a little hectic sometimes.  I have been facilitating a bereavement support group, started contributing to a local newspaper and taking classes, no excuse but it has been crazy. 

In all my busyness however, Rachel is never far from my thoughts, her presence is felt each and every waking moment, and occasionally in a dream or two.  It seems that as I step further into acceptance, she is so much more present to me.  It is hard to explain, it is a heart-felt knowledge, it does not mean I don't miss her, trust me, I do, it is just that I know she is with me.  It is as if our hearts are communicating, her soul is reaching out and hugging mine. 

When I share this with others, they will smile, shake their heads, but often I see uncertainty, a silent, really!  Yet when I speak to others who have been on this wild roller coaster ride longer, they fully understand what I am talking about, they know exactly what I mean. 

How did I get to this place?  There is no exact time frame, no aha moment, it just seemed to be a slow awareness.  One thing I do know, is I began to truly sense her presence when I started to let go.  Let me tell you, that was one of the hardest things to do.  Like so many I have spoken to, the letting go was the scariest time of all.  All of a sudden you realize that a few years have slipped away, your loved one has been 'gone' now for a while; and you have somehow began to live again.  Suddenly, you panic, you begin to wonder - am I forgetting them?  What if I can't remember what they looked like, sounded like, felt like, etc., what if I can't remember anything at all about them? 

As your wrestle with these new found fears, you find yourself slipping backwards just a little.  For me there were fresh tears, sleepless nights, and confusion.  It was by no means, debilitating, just a slow oozing from healing wounds.  It was as, if there were pain again, I wouldn't forget, I would be reminded, Rachel would not be slipping away. 

As I faced these fears, yet again, I began to let go, to trust that somehow I would be okay.  As for the day or time, was I doing a certain thing, was I at a specific location...I couldn't say.  All I know was that suddenly my fears seemed to subside, and I begin to not only believe those words I would say to everyone; 'Rachel is always with me,' I was now feeling and sensing her presence.  A comfort began to envelope me lending credence to the Bible passage "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Mt 5:4); as I felt a renewed sense of purpose, a newly found strength, and an awareness that I could now truly help others who were mourning.  After all, I had survived, and made it some how, I had come through the darkness.

This rebirth of sorts gave me so much to look forward to, knowing that no matter what lies ahead Rachel is not and will not be forgotten (at least not by me).  This new person that I have become, will truly never be the same person she was 7 years ago, and hopefully the lessons learned have taught me well.  Yes, there will still be so many events and firsts in my life, that I will feel the sadness that Rachel is not physically present to share them with us.  But my heart now knows that she is and will always be present.  My family and I just recently were seated around the dinner table, talking, laughing and playing a board game, when suddenly through all the laughter, we heard Rachel's laughter.  We all heard it, and each of us looked at each other and said, Rachel's here.  

So do not worry, your loved one is very much a part of your life, and in time you too, will begin to listen, hear and see with your heart.  Your very essence, your soul, will begin to feel your loved one in ways that will bring you comfort, will surround you in love, filling you with a peace you never thought you would know again.  Letting go, letting them live their new life, does not mean they will be forgotten, on the contrary, they will be an intricate part of your very being.

Remember, you are not alone, those we loved and lost walk beside us each and every day.  

Blessings! and until we meet again.